Chapter 12 Definitely Not Thinking About It #2
I already am relaxed. That’s the problem. I’m trying really hard to stay that way.
“Move,” I tell him, keeping my voice even as my patience thins.
He steps closer instead, chest brushing mine, his hand dragging up my side like he has every right to touch me.
My switch flips right then and there.
I grab his wrist and twist hard enough to make him hiss.
“I said,” I repeat, voice flat as I hold the pressure and force him to actually hear me this time, “hands off.”
His face changes, his ego bruised, and the anger comes up fast. It always does with guys like this. “The fuck is your problem?”
“You.” I meet his stare without flinching, done playing nice. “You’re my problem.”
His free hand grabs at my hip again, rougher this time. So, I shove him back, harder. My muscles are already coiled and ready, and my fists are practically begging to meet his nose.
It would be so easy. Just one hit and done.
I’m winding up when a body steps between us, blocking my view.
Theo.
He plants himself solidly in front of me, shoulders squared, back straight. He’s not the biggest guy in the bar, but there’s something about the way he stands that makes him look… rooted.
“Hey.” He speaks up, calm but clear with an underlining of something harder, darker. “She told you to back off.”
The guy looks Theo up and down, assessing, coming up unimpressed. “Who the hell are you?”
Theo doesn’t even blink, not intimidated by the machoism of this asshole before us. “The person you’re gonna listen to if you have any sense.”
The guy snorts, clearly deluded and overconfident. “You her boyfriend or somethin’?”
Theo’s jaw ticks once, and he keeps his eyes forward instead of giving the guy the satisfaction of a full look. “Doesn’t matter who I am. She said no.”
He shifts just enough to angle his head, eyes narrowing a fraction as his patience runs out.
“She said no,” he repeats, voice steady and unmoved. “That’s kind of the end of the conversation. Are you dense?”
Oh.
Okay, Professor.
The guy doesn’t appreciate the question. Or the tone. Or the fact that a man who looks too young to be at a bar just told him off.
His friends are watching now. I can feel their attention, the way the air changes when a fight is about to start. The music keeps thumping, unaware of the shit that's about to go down.
“Say that again,” the guy growls as he steps in, bumping his chest against Theo’s like that’s supposed to mean something.
Theo doesn’t budge an inch. “She. Said. No.”
I see it coming before it happens.
The guy’s fist swings, connecting with Theo’s jaw in an ugly, heavy crack that makes my stomach lurch. Theo’s head snaps to the side, his hand flying up to his face as he stumbles back a step.
Oh, fuck no!
I’m moving before I can think—sliding around Theo with every instinct screaming to break this guy in half. My knuckles are already curling, aiming for his nose, picturing the splatter of blood, the way his head will whip.
He grabs a glass off a nearby table and hurls it at the floor between us. It explodes, scattering small shards everywhere, catching the flashing lights. People shriek and jump back as the guy’s friends push forward, eyes mean and stupid. The crowd shifts, creating space without realizing it.
Well, this looks familiar.
A ring.
A perfect place for a brawl.
“Really?” Jax’s voice cuts through the chaos, delighted.
He steps out from behind the bar like he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment. He has a metal bat in his hand, tapping it against his other palm with way too much enthusiasm.
“Boys,” he drawls, grinning. “We hitting things now? Nobody invited me?”
The guy who hit Theo turns half toward Jax, torn between targets. Completely skipping over me, which only irritates me more. Theo straightens beside me, his hand still on his jaw.
He rolls his shoulders once, stepping forward. And just like that, the shy, nervous professor is gone.
His stance shifts—feet planted, weight centered, hands up but loose. Like he’s sliding into muscle memory instead of panic.
What the hell?
“Last warning.” Theo keeps his voice low, controlled, the kind that means he’s already decided what happens next. “Walk away.”
The guy laughs, the sound all bravado and bad judgment. “Or what?”
Theo just holds his stare and says nothing, letting the silence answer for him.
I move to lunge past him anyway—adrenaline still screaming, anger still flaring—when my boot hits the slickness of the spilled drink from the broken glass.
My foot flies out from under me, and I go down hard, catching myself with my hands.
Pain slices through my right palm, white-hot and immediate, as shards bite into my skin.
“Motherfu—” I bite off the curse, yanking my hand back as blood wells up fast, red and bright.
Perfect. Because this night was going so well already.
I push up to my knees, ready to launch myself at Waist Grab Guy anyway, busted hand be damned. That’s when an arm clamps around my waist. A solid one.
Elias.
He hauls me backward like I weigh nothing, my boots scraping across the floor. My elbow flies on reflex, but he angles his body, taking the hit on muscle instead of bone.
“Raine,” he murmurs right in my ear, voice low and steady, trying to anchor me. “No.”
“Let me go.” I snap, twisting against him anyway. “He hit Theo.”
“I saw,” he assures, not rising to my volume. “They’ve got it. You’re bleeding.”
“I don’t care.” My hand throbs in time with my heartbeat, glass glittering in the cut. “He touched me. He hit Theo. I’m not just…”
Jax steps between us and the group of guys, the bat resting on his shoulder like it’s part of his outfit. The smirk shows up, but there’s nothing friendly in his eyes when he looks at them.
“I’d really reconsider,” he tells them, voice easy on purpose, knowing they’re hunting for a brawl. “There are cameras. Witnesses. And my patience is already on life support.”
Theo shifts beside Jax, still rubbing his jaw, testing it, then dropping his hand. He slides his foot back a hair. Every muscle in his body says he’s ready. Not scared. Not even a little.
Again. What the hell?
The guy who threw the punch cranes his neck to look around Jax. “She's the one making a big deal out of nothing.”
“Yeah,” one of his buddies snorts, eyes sliding over to me through the guys. “She needs to learn how to lighten up.”
I lunge again, or try to, but Elias tightens his hold and just lifts me clean off the floor, effortless, like he’s hauling a beam. My feet dangle, toes brushing nothing but air.
“Put me down,” I hiss, fury crawling up my throat as I kick at nothing. “I’m going to show them how I lighten up.”
“You’re bleeding,” he states, calm as ever, like he’s narrating obvious facts to a reckless child. “And you’re standing in broken glass. You are not jumping back into that.”
“Elias…” My voice catches on his name, equal parts warning and frustration.
He turns, carrying me by the waist, like I’m some pissed-off cat he’s decided needs to be relocated. The dance floor, the guys, Jax’s grin, Theo’s oddly ready stance—they all spin away as he heads for the back exit.
Jax clocks the movement and nods once, eyes flicking to mine for a fraction.
"We’ve got it."
Theo doesn’t look back, but his shoulders inch wider, like he’s absorbing the space I’m leaving.
“I swear to God,” I growl, still twisting in Elias’ grip, “if they touch him again…”
“They’ll regret it.” Elias doesn’t even flinch when he says it. “Trust me.”
“You saw him hit Theo,” I shoot back, my brain refusing to accept calm right now.
“I did.” There’s no hesitation in it.
“And you’re just walking away?”
“I,” he starts, shifting his hold and shoving the door open with his shoulder, “am getting you out of there.” The cool night air hits us full in the face. “Right now.”
The bass dulls behind us as the door swings shut. The bar’s neon sign buzzes overhead, painting everything in red-blue light.
Elias sets me down but doesn’t let me bolt for the door again. His hand stays locked around my wrist.
“Let's go back in,” I demand, voice full with my frustration, but there’s a faint hint of concern that even I catch.
“No.”
“Elias.”
“Raine, look at your hand.” His voice goes steel-edged for the first time tonight.
My eyes flick down to my palm, seeing it’s worse out here under the light. Tiny pieces of glass glint in the sliced skin, dripping blood down my wrist. My stomach dips, knowing he’s right to pull me out.
Doesn’t mean I have to like it.
“They hit Theo,” I say for the millionth time, since it keeps echoing in my skull. “I should’ve—”
“Raine.” His hand tightens, not enough to hurt, just enough to ground. “Theo can handle himself.”
I scoff, because Theo is soft. He's warmth and awkward smiles. I can't picture him throwing a punch right.
Elias huffs out something that’s almost a laugh. “He’s been in martial arts since he was ten. He’s got this.”
I blink at him, not buying it for a second. “You’re kidding.”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
He doesn’t. Not even a little. His face stays dead serious, which somehow makes it worse.
“Yeah, well,” I mutter, stubborn and pissed and refusing to be soothed, “he still got punched.”
“First hit never counts,” Elias says, as if he’s reciting a rule he’s repeated a thousand times. “What matters is what happens after it.”
“And Jax?” I ask, looking for reasons to sprint back inside. “He’s not exactly intimidating, Elias.”
“Jax has been fantasizing about using that bat since he started working here.” He pauses, then adds, casual as ever, “Not to mention, he’s probably broken more noses than you have.”
“Doubt it.”
“I don’t.” He finally lets go of my wrist, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a bandana. “Hold still.”
I flinch when he takes my injured hand, but I don’t yank it away. He tilts it toward the light, checking for the bigger shards first. His touch is careful, plucking out the obvious pieces with firm but gentle fingers.